Kate Beckett and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
by Meg Moore
Summary: Not for the first time, Kate wondered how this day had gone so very, very wrong... For Jenny.


She sank into the buttery leather of the sectional sofa in the still-dark loft, fat tears dripping steadily from the end of her nose and chin as she sniffled quietly. Her body finally gave way and she slumped back into the soft furniture, too exhausted to prop herself up any longer, and not for the first time, Kate wondered how this day had gone so very, very wrong.

Her mind did a quick rewind to that morning, how it had started with the promise of being a fantastic day as she awoke with the alarm rather than being roused in the middle of the night by a shrill ring and a dead body. She stretched her sleep-heavy muscles with a Cheshire grin and a contented hum, happy to get an uninterrupted night of rest and sweet dreams. There was no active case at present, and that meant a leisurely day of catching up on paperwork while bullshitting with the boys and getting out of the precinct on time for once.

The proverbial cherry on top was that Castle was already on a flight to New York, returning from the last leg of the book tour that had taken him far from home for almost four interminable weeks. He had taken a red eye from the West Coast that would touch down at JFK around 8am, so they had made plans for him to stop by the precinct and indulge in an early lunch date at Remy's with her before returning to the loft to unpack and unwind. And when _she_ returned to the loft later in the evening? She already had designs for a celebration of a much different variety; an intimate party for two that involved little clothing and even less conversation, one in which their lips and hands and bodies did the talking for them.

In short, it was shaping up to be a pretty great day.

Her troubles began with little things: the soap that stung her eye during her shower, the smeared mascara before it had dried completely. Then, right as she was preparing to leave the loft, there was the coffee spill down the front of her shirt (one of Castle's favorites that she had donned intentionally, knowing how pleased he would be to see her in it and how he adored that shade of green on her and how he would stare shamelessly at her cleavage during lunch). She felt an irrational pang of disappointment over the stained blouse and not wearing something special for Castle's homecoming, but reasoned to herself, _if that's the worst thing that happens to you today, you'll consider yourself lucky_.

Of course, at the time, she couldn't have known what the rest of the day had in store for her.

Her wardrobe change only set her back a few minutes, but the construction that had popped up overnight on her usual route to work? That was another story altogether. She was mired in the bumper-to-bumper traffic before she could turn to escape it, and the 45 minutes it took to drive two blocks only set her teeth on edge further.

The harassment began predictably the moment she stepped onto the homicide floor of the Twelfth Precinct, Espo and Ryan at their desks before her for once and taking every opportunity to remind her of that fact. Mercifully, Gates went relatively easy on her, but Kate still felt not unlike the tardy student being called in front of the principal when her captain raised her eyebrows and taunted, "Troubles at home this morning, Detective?" She cringed at her teasing tone, but fine._ Whatever_. She could take it. She was here now, and it was time to get a cup and get to work. Plus, Castle's flight would be landing soon, and she would be hearing from him at any moment to alert her to his safe arrival home.

She would feel downright silly admitting it aloud, but she felt almost girlishly giddy awaiting her fiancé's arrival. The thought of that moment when he steps off the elevator, rumpled and scruffy from his travels, but still unbearably sexy and desperate to see her? And that look he gets on his face when their eyes meet, the one that she's only ever seen directed at her? The one that crinkles his eyes and curls his mouth into the sexiest gob-smacked little grin that says he still couldn't believe that she was his forever? Yeah…she loves that moment. Hell, she felt a fluttering in her belly just _thinking_ about it. He always kept his greeting appropriately subdued in the bullpen (this was her workplace, after all, and he had far too much respect for her to make a spectacle) but invariably dragged her into the deserted stairwell near the freight elevator the first chance he got in order to give her a proper kiss and decent feeling up. With a longing sigh, she turned her thoughts away from their reunion and to getting some work done.

She switched her computer on to warm up, and it took her a few moments to realize that nothing was happening; the monitor was dark, no LEDs blinking, no hum of the fan. She flipped the switch several times before resorting to hitting the device and grumbling "Oh come _on_." She picked up the phone to call tech support while Ryan teased her about technology abuse being a real thing.

Todd, the tech guy she got connected to, walked her through a couple of rudimentary DIY fixes, to no avail. Then he left her on hold forever, only to return and inform her that they were really backed up and she would be without a computer for at least a day or two, so could she use someone else's in the meantime? Kate knew she could use Karpowski's computer until she arrived for her shift later on, but she cringed at the thought. Karpowski was a great cop but one hell a slob; sitting at her desk made Kate want to bathe afterward. She grumbled and reluctantly moved her base of operations for the day to the next desk over.

While whisking some stray crumbs off of Karpowski's blotter, she suddenly realized that Castle flight had landed over an hour ago now. Why hadn't he called? Or sent a text? He was always good for a goofy "Honey, I'm home!" She finally found her cell wedged between two thick files, her heart dropping immediately upon seeing three missed calls, a voice mail, and a text that read _Stuck in MN, getting on the next possible flight. Sorry love_. She groaned, slumping back in Karpowski's shabby, stained desk chair and mentally kicking herself in the ass for not ensuring her ringer was on.

The voice mail expanded on the bad news from the text message: his plane had to land in Minneapolis with a mechanical issue of some sort, and now some severe storm weather was moving into the area. He was trying to get on the next flight out but he wasn't sure when that would be, and he was so completely miserable sounding that it made her heart ache. These trips were trying for both of them of course, but so much more so for him, being so far removed from their daily routine and the comforts of home, the bed that they shared now and the warmth of her body. She also knew that they were a necessary evil when his line of work was as dependent on publicity almost as much as it was on the quality of his writing.

Her mind wandered of its own accord then, thinking back to one of his previous homecomings from a tour about a year prior. And good God, calling it amazing was an understatement: two rounds of some of the most toe-curling sex she had ever had in her life, one orgasm that had melted into another and another. He had been positively inspired that night, stroking and worshipping her body perfectly and knowingly, giving and taking exactly what each of them had needed from the other after the long separation. She remembered lying there afterward, panting and humming and grinning, knowing her world had never been rocked _quite_ that hard before. And she knew why, too: she loved this man, was _in love_ with him, and was soundly secure in his wholehearted reciprocation. Somehow, that changed everything.

That night, cloaked in the intimate darkness of their bedroom, he confided to her that he hated these tours now; how they had once been fun for him, setting off to some pretty fantastic destinations, places that he had only dreamed of visiting when he was young and his mother was struggling to make ends meet. Those early trips were constant adventure; so many sights to see in every new city, so many gorgeous, willing women. He told her about how everything changed the moment Alexis was born; how he instantly hated sleeping in stuffy hotel rooms and strange, uncomfortable beds, away from his precious daughter. He told her about loving his fans but hating the chore of travel, how lonely and isolating it was. He had held her tightly to his body that night when he confessed that her presence in his life and then his bed had only made it that much harder to be away now. She kissed away his residual sadness as she pulled him into the cradle of her thighs, which led to a slow, exquisite round three that left her moaning uncontrollably.

She pulled her mind back to the present, back to the disappointment coldly creeping up her spine when she acknowledged that he would not be making that lunch date, and that she might not see him at all if the weather woes in the Midwest continued. She dialed him quickly, suddenly desperate for the comfort of his voice, but the call went straight to voicemail and her heart dropped another foot in her chest. She tried to keep her message light, but she was pretty sure her desolation at not seeing him sooner would be painfully obvious when he listened.

She trudged into the break room, her need for a shot of caffeine suddenly overwhelming, only to be greeted by a makeshift sign that had been haphazardly taped to the espresso machine, unceremoniously reading "out of order." Her chin dropped to her chest as she murmured, "Great. Juuuust great." In desperation, she poured a cup from the oft-neglected coffee maker that predated Castle's arrival at the precinct, a soft smile adorning her face when the first terrible sip reminded her of his commentary all those years ago on how lousy it tasted, and apparently still did (like a monkey peed in battery acid…her smile spread just a bit wider at the memory).

Her reverie didn't last long though. Ryan poked his head into the break room then and told her that they were needed at a crime scene. Initially, she was almost grateful for the reprieve from the awful cup of coffee and Karpowski's desk; that was, until she stepped onto the gruesome scene and saw their victims, a young couple in an advanced state of undress that had been shot multiple times in their bed, he in his back and she in her chest. It was messy and bloody and already had all the makings of a very personal-looking crime.

Suddenly she re-thought her misguided gratitude for the break this case had provided from the string of disappointments her day had turned into. She knew deep down that no matter the letdown this day had been, she still possessed the privilege of seeing the sun set on this day and rise over the next; these victims didn't share that luxury any longer. She took a deep breath and got to work.

The case was mercifully open and shut, the woman's boyfriend confessing almost immediately upon their arrival at his apartment. He was in shock and had blood spatter on his shoes and clothes still, the murder weapon sitting casually on a table in the entryway where he had apparently dropped it upon his return home. He couldn't even remember the walk back to his apartment. He broke down when he told them of how his girlfriend had been so distant lately, how he followed her after work one night, how he found her in the arms of another man. How this time, he had followed them with a gun in his pocket. It was a version of a story she'd heard from other confessors, multiple times in fact, but it never failed to leave her feeling sad and frustrated with humanity.

It was with a long sigh and a heavy heart that she booked the guilty party and closed her case, wrapping up her paperwork not long after. It was dark out now, the rest of her day having passed in a blur of casework. Her lousy morning had morphed into a lousy afternoon, and this evening wasn't shaping up to be much better. Lunch ended up being skipped altogether, and the granola bar that had been knocking around inside her desk and the apple in her purse had to suffice for dinner; at least Castle had finally texted a while ago, informing her that he was scheduled for a 7pm flight. She was trying desperately to prop herself up with that knowledge, ignore the sadness and disappointment that the day had draped upon her shoulders at every turn, and concentrate on the fact that her case was solved, and that Castle would be home soon.

Her phone was in her hand when it rang as she was leaving the records room, an elusive smile splitting her face when she saw her dad's name pop up on the caller ID. If she couldn't talk to Castle, hearing her dad's warm, gruff voice was most certainly the next best thing.

"Hey dad! I am _so_ glad you called."

"Oh, hey, Kate? This is actually Darren, your dad's neighbor up at the lake?"

The moment she heard Darren's voice, she suddenly recalled that her dad was supposed to be at his cabin until next Sunday. There was no cell reception out there, nor did he have a landline, so…why was he calling? Or more to the point, why was Darren calling her on her dad's cell phone? A chill ran the length of her spine before she could contain it, and she suddenly felt the need to lean against the wall, her knees a little watery beneath her.

"Darren, what's going on? Is my dad okay?"

"Yeah! Yeah, sorry to scare you. Your dad is okay, but he had a bit of an accident at his cabin. He was doing a repair to a light fixture and missed a rung on the ladder on his way down. He fell and fractured a bone in his wrist. I drove him to the hospital here in Gloversville and he's getting it set right now."

Kate was beginning to wonder if her mood was capable of dipping to new record lows today. Her poor dad…she knew he'd refuse any painkillers stronger than ibuprofen because of his history of addiction, even if his bent was for alcohol and not pills. He always said it was better not to tempt fate in these matters, and she had to cede to his judgment. Kate bent forward, gritting her teeth and pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead in an effort to keep the tears at bay.

"Kate? Are ya there?"

Darren's voice pierced through her fog and she pulled herself together in a hurry. "Yeah, sorry Darren, I'm here. Lemme guess, he walked himself over to your cabin and got you to drive him to the hospital."

She could hear Darren chuckle on the other side of the phone. "Yep, he walked the three miles instead of radioing me. Stubborn old guy…"

That managed to get a laugh out of her. "That he is. He's really okay though Darren? Should I come and pick him up?"

"He's fine Kate, I promise, he just wanted you to be in the loop and asked that I give you a call and fill you in. It was a clean, uncomplicated break. He should recover just fine. And actually, I was already packed up to head down the mountain tomorrow morning and return to the city, so I'll just drive him to his place tonight on my way home. He probably wouldn't mind a visit from you soon, though. "

"I'll be sure to do that. And hey, thanks for taking care of my dad, Darren. Tell him I'll call and check up on him in the morning, okay?"

"Will do, Kate. You take care now."

She continued to lean against the wall for a few minutes after the call ended, not trusting the stability of her own legs. This day was sapping every last bit of her strength at every turn, and she needed the time to take a few deep breaths and calm her battered nerves before returning to her desk.

When she finally found the wherewithal to push herself upright, she had only taken a few steps toward the bullpen when she heard a loud commotion break out in that direction. She broke into a run, and when she rounded the corner, the situation was already under control: a perp who had obviously thought a room full of law enforcement officers was a great place to make a break for it was already being subdued by Espo and cuffed face-down on the ground near her desk.

And that's when she saw it: Castle's chair. Or at least, what was left of Castle's chair.

The chair now lay in three pieces at the side of her desk; it honestly looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. A high-pitched, inhuman noise escaped her lips at the sight, the sound not unlike a wounded animal. The eyes of her coworkers turned in her direction at her outburst, the sting of traitorous tears suddenly welling uncontrollably in her own eyes. She blinked furiously to keep them at bay, biting her cheek until she sensed the coppery tang of blood in her mouth. So far, she had kept it together in the face of this terrible day; she would _not_ cry in front of her co-workers now, certainly _not_ over Castle's chair.

It was just a chair, right?

"What the hell happened?" she barely breathed.

She felt like she was underwater, Ryan's voice sounding far away and muffled, but she made out enough of what he was saying: the guy tried to make a run for it with his hands shackled behind his back and the chair had single-handedly taken him down when he caught his flailing leg on it. Sadly, their rather large suspect came down directly on top of the ugly, aging piece of furniture that Castle had years ago commandeered as his own, and apparently it was no match for the man's bulk and the pull of gravity. She listened to him in silence, her eyes never leaving the remnants of what was once her fiancé's chair; the chair he had sat in while he was pulling her pigtails and proving his usefulness, while their partnership turned into a friendship and then so much more. He sat in that chair _while they were falling in love_. She couldn't wrap her mind around it.

She finally looked to Ryan when she heard him say _Beckett_?, his voice worried and his brow furrowed. She realized only then that she hadn't said a word in a few minutes so she swallowed slowly, careful to keep her voice level when she spoke. She would _not_ lose it here. She wouldn't.

"Thanks, Ryan. You know, I think I'm gonna clear out of here for the day. You guys have everything under control?"

Espo was handing off the suspect of to several uniforms to escort to holding as he finally piped up. "Yeah! We've got it under control here."

"Totally. You should go home Beckett. Won't Castle get home soon?" Ryan chimed in.

She felt a surge of gratitude toward these two wonderful men, her comrades and brothers, and once again, she felt tears forming traitorously in her eyes.

She gave them both a watered-down smile and nodded, quickly gathering her belongings and making a beeline for the stairwell. She knew it was irrational, but she couldn't dismiss her sneaking suspicion that the elevator would choose today, this particular moment, to break down and trap her inside indefinitely. No thank you.

She needed to get home. _Now_.

When she stepped into the precinct's lobby, she discovered that the threatening clouds that had been looming over the city for the better part of the day had finally opened up and were pouring down their contents down upon Manhattan. She could only sigh and press her fingers into her temples in a futile effort to massage the ache away. She had hoped to take public transportation home and leave her cruiser at the station tonight, but the rain would make finding a cab next to impossible, and the subways would be jam-packed as well. With another sigh, she re-entered the stairwell to descend another floor to the garage.

Needless to say, she wasn't surprised in the least when the car sputtered after she turned the key in the ignition, and then died altogether. A soft _seriously_? escaped her lips, and she could only shake her head and look skyward, even though she could only see the roof of her car mere inches away. When would enough be enough today? She would curse the universe and the steady litany of tricks it had played on her all day if she wasn't mildly leery of tempting fate by doing so.

The thought actually managed to bring a smile to her lips; _fate_. That nebulous concept that people clung to in order to make sense of the mysteries of the cosmos. Fate was something that she had no time or patience for; that is, before Castle came into her life. It was amazing, really, the things he had opened her eyes to, and the possibilities she now saw for her future. Possibilities that a cynical, rational cop like her had had no time for, because she could see no way in which they could come to pass; she was too dark, too damaged, too broken for anyone to love that way. But in the end, she wasn't beyond hope, was she? He had shone a light into her life; he reassembled the pieces of her that had been scattered to the wind in the wake of her mother's murder and her father's descent into addiction. And the pieces that were too damaged to repair? He simply showed her how to build something new out of them, and loved all the nicks and cracks in her façade just the same.

God, she missed him.

She quickly left a message with the department's maintenance division to report her car trouble and location before dragging herself back to up the stairs to street level. She had a decision to make: try to find a cab in this weather (and as a native New Yorker, she knew the chances were slim to none)? Or take a chance on the subway where she would be undoubtedly be packed into a car sardine-like with hundreds of other wet commuters? Both options were lousy, and the rain would probably end up soaking her either way.

She made an impulsive, split second decision then and broke for the subway.

* * *

><p>When she finally dropped onto the couch in the dark loft, wet and tired and thoroughly beaten down, it was almost ten. It had taken her over an hour to make the usually twenty-minute trip thanks to the inclement weather, and while she wasn't dripping, her clothes were soaked through to her skin. The loft was warm enough, but she still felt a shiver move through her, grateful to be home and more than ready for Castle to walk through the door. Of course his call to her to let her know he had landed came while she was still underground in the subway and had no cell signal, but at least he was in New York again and on his way to her as she sat with her teeth chattering and threw a pity party for one.<p>

It didn't take long for the tears to come. She was actually a little surprised that she gave into the urge to have good, cathartic cry so quickly, but she supposed that it spoke volumes not only to how terrible her day had been, but also how far she had come in being able to finally acknowledge her feelings so freely. She had Dr. Burke to thank for a lot of that, but she knew that she deserved credit for the work too.

The tears streamed steadily from her eyes as she collapsed back into the sectional, and finally, she just let herself be with the terrible feelings the day had stirred up. Better to let it out, let it lose its steam, let it wash over and away with the tears. She knew in her heart of hearts that as miserable as this day had been, it was just that: one day. She had so many others to look forward to, and she'd even get to greet the next one with her fiancé back in their bed where he belonged. As the flow of tears began to slow, she took a few deep, shaky breaths, and suddenly she thought about getting herself cleaned up before Castle arrived home.

Of course, it was at that very moment that the door to the loft flew open with a booming "Honey! I'm home!"

As Castle took in the unlit silence of the loft, his last word trailed off into nothingness while the door closed behind him. Apparently, he wasn't expecting a dark home when he arrived, and reached over to flick the closest light switch, glancing around and searching for anyone who might be home. Kate sat up abruptly on the couch then, no longer concerned with her puffy eyes and her swollen nose.

"Castle!" she blurted as she scrambled to her feet and dashed around the side of the couch in his direction.

He engulfed her in his embrace, her face buried at his neck, and as he held her body tightly to his, a wave of rightness swept over her. Their bodies fit so perfectly together, and despite all of her early insistence that they could never work as a couple, their lives fit together remarkably well too. This, _them_, being in his arms, being loved by him, getting to love him in return…it was _so_ right. If any doubts had lingered in her mind about them, about their future, this feeling would banish them permanently. She was crying again, but this time out of elation and relief as he rocked her in his arms.

"Oh, Kate. Goddamn it's so good to be home," he murmured into her hair, before he pulled back to see her face. That's when he noticed the shiny tear tracks on her cheeks and the red nose and the damp hair and clothing. He still appeared happy to see her, but his face was shot through with concern now. "Hey, whoa. I'm sure you were bummed out about missing Remy's today, but I can't imagine you reacting this way over it."

She scoffed and slapped him on the chest. "That's not why I was crying. Well, it wasn't completely why I was crying. It certainly didn't help matters any."

He seemed to understand that there was more to this story, so he released her from his grip and walked her over to the couch, settling in one of corners so he could comfortably gather her onto his lap and still see her face while she spoke.

She started with her morning, and the little things that had tripped her up. Then she told him about the escalating frustrations at work, followed by the sad, messy case of lovers gone wrong that they had landed. She told him about her father next, and finished with the demolition of his chair. She figured she could end the story there; her car troubles could wait for another time.

Oddly enough, she found that she didn't feel the urge to cry anymore; by the time she finished, it felt more like she was the one spinning a story this time around, all about the terrible fates that had befallen some poor stranger today. She had gone through enough therapy to know that the present, the _now_, was all that mattered, and with her partner home at last? She found she could easily distance herself from it with him by her side again. She felt fine in fact; with the exception of some residual concern for her dad and his well-being, she had already let it go.

Castle had cringed when she told him of the chair's annihilation. "I had always thought that thing was indestructible. How'd the other guy make out?"

"His knee was pretty jacked up."

"Good."

She blurted out a giggle at that. Goddamn this man, he made her _giggle_. "If I'm being completely honest, that was actually the lowest blow of the day."

"Really? All this fuss over that ratty old thing?"

She slapped his chest again. "Don't talk that way about it."

He laughed at her defense of the aged, tattered furniture. "Oh, you don't need to remind _me_ of the significance of that chair, Kate. I know the vital part it played in our courtship."

She could only grin at his astuteness; of course he would understand why it was so important to her, to _them_, and why it hurt to see it destroyed, even if it was completely irrational.

"I just never thought I'd see the day when Kate Beckett became so overwhelmed with sentimentality over a piece of office furniture, but…"

She shut his mouth with hers then, a sweet, slow press of their lips. The feeling of relief at having him here washed over her almost tangibly, and she could only sigh her bliss into his mouth. She pulled back so she could look him in the eye again.

"It's just…it's _your_ chair, and it always has been." She gave him a sheepish little shrug over her attachment to an inanimate object. "It made me sad, given its history. That's all."

He could only smile at her declaration, a sexy, loopy, lopsided thing that usually came out when she surprised and pleased him. "I get it. And for what it's worth, I'm a little sad too." He nuzzled his nose against hers, gave her a few far-too-brief kisses before he continued. "But it's just a chair. Remember that. It would take a lot more than some klutzy perp for you to get rid of me."

"Even if I locked you two in holding together?"

"I assume he'd be handcuffed to the bench, so sure, why not." His face turned somber then. "I really am sorry your day was so lousy, Kate."

"Why are you apologizing to me? You're the one who's been on a plane or stuck in an airport all day after having been away from home for so long. I felt terrible for you being stranded like that."

"At least there was a free wifi and a Starbucks near my gate to fuel my caffeine addiction."

"True. My day really was worse than yours," she added with a comical pout on her lips.

He nodded his head animatedly. "Yes. Terrible. The worst." He tugged her entire upper body against his then, and before she could protest that her wet clothes would damage his suede jacket, he kissed her again, a little deeper this time, a little more lingering. When they finally pulled away, they didn't go far; she rested her forehead against his and they sat together like that for a stretch, soaking in the other's presence and love, re-centering themselves as a couple again.

"Let's just call it a draw, shall we?" he murmured against her lips after they had sat quietly for a minute.

"Deal," she smiled into the softness of another brief kiss, and oh yes, she had missed the way he tasted. She had missed everything.

He pulled back again then to meet her gaze. "Hey, how's your dad really doing?"

Her heart surged at his sweet inquiry; she loved that he cared about her dad so much, and loved _him_ all the more for it.

"He's okay. Darren said it was a clean break. He'll be home tonight so I'm gonna go visit him tomorrow evening, if you'd like to tag along."

"Of course, I'd love to."

"Thank you." It just came out of her mouth, unbidden.

He tilted his head in question. "For what?"

"Just for…you know. Taking care of me. Worrying about my dad. Being so good to the people in your life." She shrugged her shoulders then, suddenly a little bashful over her earnest declarations. "Just being you."

A sweet, shy smile cracked his lips, so obviously pleased by her words.

"Kate, taking care of you, _loving _you…that's never a chore for me. It's my privilege to do so, and I plan to continue for as long as you'll have me."

Her surge of gratitude turned into a jolt of desire at his words. Her eyes drifted from his eyes to his plump lips, down to his stubbled jaw and the thick tendons in his neck, then further to the vee in his t-shirt where a few hairs were peeking out. She dug her teeth into her bottom lip at her sudden overwhelming hunger for him, and when her eyes found his again, the darkness of his pupils was already clouding the sunny blue of his eyes.

Already on the same page, as always.

"Why Katherine Beckett, I do believe you just undressed me with your eyes." His voice had grown rough and sensual and it resounded somewhere deep inside her, spurring her into motion.

"So what if I did?"

She slid off his lap so she could swing a leg over his other hip and straddle him this time around, lazily linking her arms around his neck and sinking slowly against his pelvis with a naughty roll of her hips, eliciting an _aaah yessss_ from his lips and a mischievous smile from hers. He wasted no time in palming her ass and tugging her against his growing arousal, letting her know in no uncertain terms how he wanted her _oh so very much_. She gasped into his mouth at the divine relief the friction provided, her hips rocking into his again, seeking more.

"I do believe I'd have to take you to bed," he growled into her mouth. If it was possible, his voice had dropped another octave, the sex dripping honey-like from his words and onto her tongue. She lapped it up greedily, her tongue surging against his then, their mouths sealed together and their hands roaming freely as they gave as good as they took.

When they finally broke apart, panting and a little wild looking, their swollen lips brushing and their erratic breaths shared, she simply whispered "Please."

And with that simple plea, she left her terrible day behind her.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Poor Kate! Who among us hasn't had a day like that? Luckily, she got her happy ending. As always, I hope you enjoyed reading, and if you feel so inclined, I'd love to hear your thoughts about it._

_Credit must be given to Judith Viorst, from whose wonderful children's book I borrowed the title of this story._

_I must also credit and thank the lovely Jenny, who generously allowed me to take her idea from a tumblr post and run with it {74flawsasofyesterday dot tumblr dot com slash post slash 87533951911}. I hope I did it justice for you (it certainly took me long enough…now you know why I don't write prompts)._

_And last, thanks to Morgan and Becca for their seemingly bottomless encouragement, and for convincing me that even a fic with no secret agents, explosions, or amnesia still has a place in the fanfic world. As always, the wine is on me._


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